


At First Glance

by mocking_words



Series: Romanogers Prompts [8]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:26:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6920011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mocking_words/pseuds/mocking_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt by marvelousdorito on Tumblr: Romanogers + 'our flats are opposite each other and your kitchen window faces my kitchen so we always see each other making coffee at 3am' AU?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it xx

The first time it happened, it was because of the lingering nightmares that never seemed to leave him alone. He had woken up sweaty and breathing heavier than normal. The back of his shirt felt damp and it stuck to his skin like glue, it was hardly comfortable. The clock on his right flashed a quarter past two in the morning, and he realised that it was the third time this week he hadn’t been able to sleep through the night. Steve ran a hand across his face, trying to get rid of the perspiration. He probably needed therapy, like how Sam kept telling him, but he crossed off the thought as soon as it appeared. He could get by on his own.

It was still early, and he wasn’t due at work until half past eight. Contemplating his choices, he got up anyway; it wasn’t as if he was going to get much sleep either way. He didn’t bother to flip the light switches as he made his way towards the living room; enjoying the darkness that shrouded the entire room. Faint lights peeked through the curtains that he put up several months ago when he first moved in. The city that never sleeps definitely lived up to its reputation. It was times like these that he was grateful for living in New York. He didn’t have to be alone. As he made his way to the bathroom, he was running on autopilot, his mind wandering elsewhere. By the time he made it to the kitchen, it was ten minutes past three. Standing by the kitchen sink, he poured himself the holy concoction that was coffee; he could barely function without it. As he stood there, he looked out his window to see the lights on in the opposite apartment on. Nothing strange at all, considering he was awake as well. The first thing that caught his eye was the colour of her hair. It was not quite the deep shade of scarlet he was used to seeing, but rather, it held an orange hue that he was strangely attracted to. She was dressed in work clothes, a simple white dress under a blue cropped blazer. It was simple, and half the female doctors in his department dressed similarly, but she made it look effortless and just downright classy. He watched as she poured herself a mug of what he recognised as coffee and flipped through a stack of papers.

He felt like a class A creep.

Tearing his gaze away, he could only wonder what she could possibly be doing at three in the morning. A plethora of reasons crossed his mind, but he didn’t feed his thoughts. He had no business staring at a complete stranger who happened to live across the street. That was just plain creepy.

* * *

The trip to the New York-Presbyterian Hospital was short, especially at this hour where traffic was as light as it would ever be. He clocked in and headed towards the paediatrics department, pulling on his white coat as he went. It had been a difficult week, more cases coming in compared to any other month. A little boy, Michael, had come in, last week. He suffered from multiple sclerosis, a condition which affected the nervous system and could be fatal. There was no known cure for it yet. Steve was hardly a pessimist but it was times like this that he wondered what made him take up medical school anyway.

After he was discharged from the army, he still had a whole life ahead of him. At the age of twenty-two he had gained the rank of Captain, but due to circumstances, he had to go. Somehow he had taken the decision to enter medical school, and he had taken up being a paediatrician. He loved kids, and they were the cutest little rascals running around. It was a three hundred sixty degree turn around from his life in the army. Children were mostly just starting out life, and all he ever saw on the battlefield were dead corpses. He loved his job, even though it was difficult seeing some of them who come in suffering as much as they were and he couldn't do a single thing about it. Kids like Michael made him wonder if he ever appreciated his life enough.

* * *

"No, I want this report done before five tomorrow evening," Natasha sighed, the agitated tone in her voice making her blood boil. It was one thing being a lawyer in a well-known law firm in New York City, and it was a whole other thing being stuck with a bunch of new interns.

"Yes Ms Romanoff, I'll get it done right away," the new intern squeaked, scurrying away as quick as he had walked in through her office door.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh, the higher-ups were clearly testing her patience.

"Jesus, calm down Nat, you're scaring the shit out of them," Clint Barton grunted, pulling his tie lower as he dropped a file on her table.

Clint had been her partner-in-crime since they had met in the freshman year of law school in NYU. They graduated together and even now, as he stood in front of her desk, they were the best of friends.

"You'd think that they would have more brains than that, considering the fact that he wrote he graduated from Oxford in his resume."

"He's fresh out of grad school Nat, he's still learning," Clint chided, "Besides, we were once like him."

"I did not give my superiors a migraine the moment I walked into their office, Barton."

"Oh sure you did, you gave me one the moment I walked in here," he chuckled, an amused smirk on his face.

"Get that shit-eating grin off your face, I'm exhausted," she sighed, "If I die young, remember to pen my will properly."

"I'll make sure to include the fact that the cause of death was indeed stress. It'll raise awareness once it appears in the Wall Street Journal that New York's top lawyer died from overworking herself."

"I'm not ready to throw in the towel just yet," she grumbled, turning her gaze to her laptop.

"Jesus Christ Nat, stop staring at that computer, it's already well past midnight. When was the last time you slept?"

"About two days ago, it was hardly what you would call a good night's sleep, though."

"That's it, take the day off tomorrow. I'll handle the Kingston case. This isn't up for discussion."

"You're fucking kidding right?"

Natasha wanted to protest, or at least smack him. She didn't spend weeks preparing this presentation just for it to just slide through her fingers. The Kingston case was massive, and if she could be the one to represent at that meeting tomorrow morning, it might just skyrocket her career even further.

"Barton, you can't just do this to me." She said, running her hands through her already messy shoulder length curls. "You know I spent weeks on this."

"No means no Romanoff, I'll postpone the meeting."

"That'll ruin our image! Clint, you're being a fucking asshole right now."

"Oh come on, the case can wait, your body can't. You're exhausted and I don't want you to kill yourself doing this." Clint replied earnestly. She knew he was worried, but she worked so damn hard on this and damn it to hell if she died doing her presentation tomorrow. At least she would've died fighting.

Barton glared at her, "Don't even think about coming in tomorrow, I'll have security drag you out from the building and I mean it."

"You're a real asshole you know that?"

But she couldn't argue, not with him. While the two of them had graduated top of their class and ended being New York's finest lawyers, he still held a higher position here. He was one of the major shareholders in the firm, and God was she pissed about it sometimes.

"I'm doing this for you, Nat. It's one day, not the rest of your life." He shrugged, "Besides, you look like the love child of Frankenstein and Igor."

"You sure know the way to a woman's heart," she said, rolling her eyes, arms crossed.

"Oh don't be a sourpuss, I'll buy you lunch tomorrow. Just go home and get some rest."

He leant across her desk and kissed her cheek before turning to leave, "Don't scare the children on your way back."

"Very funny."

She sighed as he closed the door behind him. She had no choice but to go home and drown her sorrows.

* * *

The drive back from work was relatively quick, and Natasha couldn't have been more grateful for it. The throbbing in her head was undeniably painful and she just wanted nothing more than a good nap and possibly just the tiniest bit of tea.

Walking into her apartment, she flipped the light switch in the living room. As the chandelier lit up the place, she wondered when was the last time she actually spent more than a couple of hours in this place. There were a few knick-knacks here and there that made it feel a little less than a hotel and more like a home, but it was something she had long grown used to. She shed her blazer and dumped her bag on the couch before making her way to the kitchen. It was almost three and it wasn't the first time she was awake at this ungodly hour of the morning.

As she pushed herself onto the kitchen counter, she was more than grateful for the mug of hot tea in her hands. It was the only thing keeping her from going insane. The last few weeks had been like a trip to hell itself, and while she was pissed, she was still grateful for the time off. She'd have to thank Clint tomorrow.

She turned her gaze out her window to see a blonde-haired man staring blankly at the phone in his hand while the other stirred a drink. Looks like she wasn't the only one with problems.

He looked up and she caught his eye. She was too tired to care what she looked like, or what the stranger must have thought when he saw her sitting on her kitchen counter.

So, she waved.

Surprisingly, he waved back, a smile on his face. She turned away, and that was the beginning of that.

* * *

She had waved at him, and he was not entirely sure if it was okay for him to wave back. So, he'd just smiled.

Weeks went by and whenever he came home from a late shift, he would sometimes see the light across his apartment building on. Whenever he saw his neighbour, she would wave and he would wave back. He didn't know her name and they lived across the street from each other, but not once had he ever run into her. But he wanted to get to know her.

* * *

Natasha wondered if it was a curse, her and late nights at the office. For once in her life, she just wanted to go home, and for the first time, she got the chance to. Her client cancelled their eight p.m. meeting and she almost,  _almost,_ jumped for joy. Not that she'd ever do that, it would've been unprofessional. As she walked towards her car, the white Audi R8 she had bought after her last promotion, she let her thoughts go astray. She would have time to finish that new drama she was hooked on, and maybe she would stop by the grocery store on the way back to replenish the dwindling supplies in her refrigerator.

That sounded nice.

She drove to the one nearest to her place, just anxious to get home. Everything hurt and God forbid, she just wanted to turn in early tonight. She picked up a basket and checked things off her mental list as she went.

Bread. Milk. Cheese. Some vegetables. A couple of fruits. Quinoa. Eggs.

She was practically moving mindlessly as the exhaustion caught up with her. She stopped moving when there were people in front of her. She moved when there wasn't. It had been a long day.

She was just searching for a can of spaghetti sauce when she looked up to see a very tall, at least six feet or more, figure standing by the shelves. He was wearing a blue button down, tucked neatly into his black slacks, and promptly inspecting a can of pickled cucumbers.

He must have noticed her staring because he turned to look at her. It was her neighbour.

"Hey."

"Hi."

What do you say when you finally run into that stranger you'd been waving at for months? She held her tongue for a moment and he offered a hand, "Nice to finally meet you, stranger."

"Well, we're not exactly strangers," she smiles.

There was no denying that her neighbour was certainly attractive. He was a good head taller than her, and he was buff, gym instructor worthy. The messy blonde hair on his head was so artfully messed that she honestly wondered if he had done it himself or he was just that lucky.

She wanted to thank his parents. But she kept that thought to herself.

"I'm Rogers, Steve Rogers."

"Natasha Romanoff.."

"At least now I can put a name to the face, turns out the name is as beautiful as the owner," he smiled.

Her face heated up, but she just smirked, "Thank you. You're not too bad yourself."

He stood there for a few seconds, just looking at her in this adorable way that she had never seen a guy do before.

"Hey... I was thinking, and this is going to make me sound like a total creep, but do you like coffee?"

She couldn't help but smile, her lips curved into a smirk, "Is that something you picked up from all that waving?"

"Couldn't help but notice that you liked it as much as I do." He shrugged, a grin on his face.

"Are you asking me on a date Mr Rogers?"

"I might be, Ms Romanoff. It depends on your answer."

"Coffee sounds great." She smiled. 


	2. Chapter 2

Coffee was the answer to a lot of things, it seemed.

After dropping off the bags of groceries back home, she met him outside her apartment building, where he was waiting. He had been a gentleman and offered to carry her bags up for her, but she declined. If chivalry had died out long ago, Steve had to be the reincarnate of it.

She watched as he subtly put his hands in his pockets, turning to look at her with this boyish smile and she swore she felt something. It was as if she was thirteen again, sitting on the bleachers and giggling about something her crush said. It felt… _different_ ; a good kind of different, but different nonetheless. He had this charm that she just couldn’t quite place her finger on.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but why are you up every day at three in the morning?”

She sighed, a smile on her face, "Sometimes you just can't find it in you to let go of work."

It had been awhile since she had gone on a date. It wasn't even because she hadn't been asked, but it was simply because she had been too busy. Dates were the last thing on her mind when she was hammering away at the keyboard working on a case. Steve had asked her, and he wanted to get to know her better, which made her want to say yes. Half the guys who asked her out rarely wanted to know more than how to get her in their beds. It just made her appreciate his efforts a little bit more, "It seems like I'm not the only one, though, how about you? What's your story?"

He rubbed the back of his head with one hand, the other still tucked in his pocket, "Just can't sleep most of the time, which usually ends up with me going in to work at the most unusual hours."

"What do you do?"

He shrugged, "I work as a paediatrician at the Presbyterian Hospital."

"You must really like kids," she smiled, he really did seem to embody the perfect gentleman.

He smiled back, "Can't say I don't. I used to be in the army before this, so it's a three hundred and sixty-degree change from what I'm used to seeing."

"It probably is, by a long shot."

"What about you? What do you do?"

"I practise law. But lawyers in New York aren't exactly hard to come by."

"Good people aren't always hard to come by. It's the great ones that are."

"Insightful aren't you?"

"Always the people pleaser," he winked. She laughed, it had been some time since she last felt so free, "What was it like? Being in the army?"

He shrugged, "Depressing. It was watching people die almost every day. I got discharged several years ago but sometimes the nightmares still come back. PTSD is a pain in the ass. I walked out of there with a captain's honour, but I was lost for a bit after that. I ended up going to medical school, it was my saving grace."

"I'm sorry, it must've been hard on you," she said; and she meant it. There was no easy way watching people die.

"It's not your fault. It's just the way it is."

"It doesn't have to be that way. But why did you choose to be a doctor?"

"It was a spur of the moment decision really, but I guess it was just to give myself a peace of mind. I spent years on the battlefield, and I've gunned down more than my fair share of men. It's time I did something different. I chose to specialise in paediatrics because I wanted to give these kids another shot at life, most of them come in with major health issues and they're only five. The moment they walk through those hospital doors, their lives are in your hands. There's no second chance, but there's no better feeling than the one where you can tell them they're okay, and the smile that lights up their faces when you tell them they can finally go home. It's just the best thing. The job's tough but someone's gotta do it."

"Well, Steve, it's comforting to know that there are doctors like you out there," she grinned.

"I feel like this entire talk has been centred around me. It's not fair that I'm spilling just about everything and you've not told me anything past your name and occupation."

Natasha laughed, he sounded genuinely apologetic, "You're an interesting man Steve, I wouldn't mind listening to you all night."

Their conversation was brought to a pause as they arrived at the coffee shop. The warm, balmy summer air was enough to make her wish it was autumn again and she was glad to get out of the heat. It was a quaint place, a few elderly people scattered around, chatting quietly. It was cosy, and she relaxed right away. He must've seen the look on her face because he just smiled, "Thought you might like it."

They sat down in an isolated corner of the cafe and a friendly waitress took their orders. She returned not too long later with two steaming cups in hand. Setting it down, she smiled before leaving them.

"Alright, now tell me about you, what made you want to be a lawyer?"

"I was into debating?" She offered, stirring her coffee.

"That's not fair Natasha," he chided gently, "There has to be more than that. Nobody just  _wants_ to do something and ends up at the top of the corporate ladder."

She bit her lip, smiling, "Very observant. Alright, I grew up in Russia, Moscow actually. My father was a lecturer and my mother was a piano teacher. When I was ten, my father was detained for substance abuse. It was apparently more than ten kilogrammes of heroin, amongst other things. He hung himself two days later."

"Natasha, I'm so sorry..." He replied, cutting in.

She just waved him off, "It was a long time ago, don't worry about it. A few months later, they caught the man who stuffed the goods in my father's car. It was the worst day of my life, and I could only watch as my mother cried her heart out. It was horrible, but regardless, I wanted to make sure that something like that doesn't happen to someone else. The world is unfair Steve, but I want to make sure justice is served."

"It's not much, but I want to make the world a better place, so there isn't a kid out there without a father they looked up to," she finished.

He just looked at her with this gentle smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes, "Well, Natasha Romanoff, I'm very glad that there are lawyers like you out there."

She couldn't help but smile. It wasn't often that someone could turn her insides into mush, but Steve knew how to play the game, "You're such a sweet talker, I'm starting to wonder how many girls have fallen for that charm."

"None actually, I've never had a girlfriend," he confessed, face turning slightly red.

Steve Rogers had _never_ had a girlfriend, she almost gaped at him, but regained control of herself, "You're serious, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't lie about that," he smiled sheepishly, "It's true, though."

"Why so?"

"Never found the right one. I went on dates, mostly ones which were set up by my friends, but I guess it just never worked out. Between being in the army, and medical school, there wasn't exactly a time for a whirlwind romance."

She bit her lip, he was definitely an intriguing one, "Well, the ladies sure don't know what they're missing."

"I'm not complaining but I have to say, it's a pretty impressive view from this end of the table," he chuckled.

A blush crept up quietly on her face, and judging by how hot her face was, she was definitely being pulled into the deep end. 

* * *

They talked a little longer, and she learned a lot more.

He liked pets, but he was a big dog kind of guy. He was born in Manhattan. His father died when he was young and his mother died from pneumonia when he was a teen. Every piece of information she learned, she stored, and suddenly everything was fragments of a larger puzzle that she wanted to piece together.

He walked her home and they walked in a comforting silence. It was a nice feeling, it was her first time with Steve, and she had enjoyed it.

"Thanks for the evening," she smiled.

"You're welcome. I had a really nice time, I don't suppose I'll see you again soon?"

"Probably when one of us decides to take a trip to the kitchen," she quips, grinning.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, not really looking at her, "That's not what I meant."

"I know," she grinned as she pulled out a pen from her bag. She takes his hand and scribbles her number on it,  "Save it for a rainy day."

"Good night Steve," Natasha smiles, getting on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Good night Natasha," he grinned.

As she rode the elevator to her floor, she wanted to pinch herself. What was wrong with her? Steve was just a guy, she shouldn't be this happy, but she was. It was a whole new experience, and she was playing in a field she didn't know so well anymore. Natasha was just turning the key to her apartment when her phone vibrated with a message.

_Thanks for tonight._

_-SR_

She couldn't help but grin. Oh God, she was into it, and it was _bad_. Natasha dropped her stuff onto the couch and collapsed onto it. All the exhaustion she had felt throughout the day came back to her, and she sighed. It was almost twelve in the morning and she had to be back at work at half eight. Just thinking about it made her want to cry, but she hardly regretted her decision to go out with Steve. She pulled out her phone to reply him, the silly grin resurfacing on her face.

_You're welcome, neighbour :)_

_-NR_

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy, heavy angst in this chapter.

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

It had been months since Natasha had spent her limited free time alone, mostly thanks to Steve. He was far from being clingy, but he spent a lot of time with her, just talking. They talked about everything and anything, but when talking got boring, they just sat together and watched cheesy films. It was unrealistic to expect that they would be able to talk from dawn until dusk every day, but she hardly felt any pressure to keep the conversation going.

Things were easy with Steve, they clicked in more ways than one, and it made her life a little better every day.

When they weren't together, she was busy sorting out the latest case that would pop up on her desk. She spent most of her nights at the office with Clint and a cup of coffee to keep her going. Things were blissful, though, for once in her life and things were finally going well.

* * *

 "Morning beautiful," Steve grinned, giving her a kiss on the lips. She had dropped by his flat in the morning to check up on him. Things were hectic back in the office, and she had hardly seen him, but they have been making it work somehow, for the past two weeks.

"Hi," she smiled, nipping his lip playfully before turning to grab an apple from the bowl on the kitchen counter, "How have things been at the hospital?"

"Busy, especially around this time of the year."

Spring usually brought about the issue of pollen allergies and a handful of other things, which kept him on his toes.

"Well, tell Michael I said hi," she smiled softly. Michael was one of Steve's younger patients and had a heart of gold. She'd visited Steve at the hospital once and had met the boy. She ended up staying late into the evening listening to the little boy talk about everything from dinosaurs to his favourite TV show. He was wonderful, but Natasha had learnt that he had been diagnosed with stage two brain cancer and was undergoing chemotherapy. It was as if her soul was crushed when she found out, he was such a bright young thing, and yet he might not even survive long enough to graduate primary school.

She had felt a little better leaving Michael in Steve's care, simply because she could rely on Steve to do his best. She knew he wouldn't let her or Michael down.

"I'm working late tonight, don't wait up," she told him, taking a bite of the apple in her hand.

"You're not the only one, the reports are starting to pile up on my desk."

She leant towards him for another kiss before rubbing the lipstick stain away, "See you tonight then, I love you."

He grinned, "I love you too."

* * *

Her drive to the office was quiet and uneventful, as it usually was. When she arrived, Clint rapped his knuckles on her door and she turned to look at him.

"Hi, come in," she waved.

He shut the door and sat down in the plush leather chair opposing her, "The Trainors' case settled yet?"

"No, unfortunately. I've been pulling all-nighters for this, but it's just taking too long. The money's too much for me to even begin to think about how much or how little goes to who," she sighs, "Even penning the will is taking its toll on me."

Clint flashed her a sympathetic smile, "You'll figure it out Romanoff, if you don't, you know who to look for."

"Hopefully," she smiles, switching on her laptop.

"How are you and lover boy doing?"

"We're at work Barton, I don't think it's the right time to be discussing my love life."

Clint shrugged, "I'm just curious. You've been here more often than not lately, isn't Rogers saying anything about this?"

"Why would he be? We're both busy people, it's not as if he hasn't got a life of his own," she says without looking away from the screen.

"Huh... No matter, since he understands, it's a great thing. I can keep you here," he winks.

"Very funny Barton, now get out I have work to do," She says, motioning towards the direction of the door.

"Ouch, and here I thought we were best friends."

"We are, it's just that you happen to be distracting me from my work."

"Yes ma'am, I'll see you later," Clint replies, "If you need me, you know where to find me."

"Next door? I thought so," Natasha smirks. Clint merely grins at her and leaves.

* * *

"Morning Steve," Sharon smiled as he ran into her while making his rounds.

"Hi, good morning Dr Carter," he replied, scrawling some notes onto the chart before turning to flash her a smile.

"I'm sure we've been acquainted long enough for you to call me Sharon," she smiles, "I haven't been seeing you around lately. How's everything been?" She asks.

"Everything has been going quite well, just been spending more time at home," he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"With Natasha?"

He looked at her, bewildered, "How did you know?"

He hadn't ever told anyone at work about his relationship with Natasha, preferring to keep it private.

"I heard from the nurses, word travels fast. Especially when you have a million fangirls in this department alone," she laughs, "Besides, I saw her visiting you that one time. When you two were with Michael."

"Oh, I see. Yeah, we've been spending some time together. She's busy with her work and I'm busy with things here, so our schedules hardly match, but we're making it work."

"That's great, really. She seems really nice."

He laughs, "She's a real keeper that's for sure."

"Look at you Rogers, you're head over heels for her," Sharon grinned.

He sighs, a boyish smile on his face, "I guess I am."

"I wouldn't be surprised to hear wedding bells sometime in the future," Sharon replies, "I have to go, I'll see you around Steve."

"See you around, Sharon."

His relationship with Natasha was definitely something that he cherished. He loved her and his conversation with Sharon only made that fact even clearer.

He _really_ loved her.

* * *

By the time she was hell-bent on going home, it was far too late for anyone to even be in the office anyway. She was just about to leave when she noticed Clint's room lights were still on.

"I'm leaving," Natasha called out, "Barton?"

She pushed the door to his office open, only to see Clint asleep on the table. 

"God, you're going to catch a cold," she muttered as she set her files down to drape his jacket over his shoulders. He didn't even stir. She knew he'd been working way too hard lately, it wasn't even funny anymore.

She scrawled out a note onto the writing pad on his table.

_Get some rest Barton, you're going to kill yourself._

_-Nat_

She shut the door behind her as she left.

Natasha made her way towards the parking lot and as she settled into her car, she read the texts that have been filling up her notification. It was already two in the morning but there was a text from Steve.

_Are you still up?_

_Yeah, I just got off work. You?_

_I'm still at the hospital. Working late, I'll see you tomorrow._

She left the office building, maybe she should pay a visit to Steve.

* * *

It was two a.m. and he was still in the paediatrics ward, treating some of the children and making sure they were comfortable. He was just leaving Michael's room when Sharon appeared from down the hallway.

"Steve, funny still seeing you here."

"I'm more surprised seeing you at this hour," he says, "You're not on this shift right?"

She smiles, shoving her hands in her doctor's coat pockets, "I'm covering for Beth, she's back in Arkansas for the weekend."

"Nice of you," he replied genuinely.

"Beth's a nice girl, it's the least I could do since it's her grandmother's birthday."

He nodded, "I see. At least she'll be able to spend some time off with her grandmother."

She shrugged, "Can I get you a coffee? You look like you could use one, especially if you're thinking about staying any later."

"I'll say yes to coffee but no to you buying it, let me. It's the least I could do. You look tired."

Sharon let out a good-natured scoff, running a hand through her blonde hair, "Ever the gentleman aren't you Steve?"

"It's common courtesy," he explained, "Don't mind me."

"Thank you," she replied, genuinely, a smile on her face.

"No problem."

They made their way towards the elevators and stood in companionable silence once inside. When they reached the main level, they were just exiting when Sharon tripped.

He caught her before she could meet the floor.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concerned, his arms still wrapped around her. "Yeah, I'm fine, thank you. You just saved my ass," she laughs, trying to find her footing as he lets go.

"Gosh, excuse me for a minute. I need to use the ladies, I'll meet you in the cafeteria?"

He nods, "Sure thing."

She leaves and he makes his way across the main area when he heard a familiar voice echoing across the empty space.

"Steve."

He turned to see Natasha, standing there, arms crossed, "When you said you were working late I did not expect you to be screwing around with your co-worker."

"Natasha. Wait, what? What are you doing here? I swear to God that wasn't what it looked like."

She remained eerily silent, and Steve could've sworn he felt the room grow a lot colder and it wasn't because the heating was malfunctioning.

"Oh. I decided to pop by to visit you, but it looks like you were busy. That's all right. I'll come back at a more _convenient_ time. I'll see you around, Steve." She smiles sweetly before turning to leave.

"Nat, please. I swear I can explain."

"Then, please, explain," she replied, her arms crossed and her tone frosty.

His mind instantly went blank, "I..."

She didn't wait for a response. "Okay Steve, okay. I'll see you tomorrow if you're not too busy," she shrugged, tugging at the coat she had on before turning to leave. He stood there, dumbfounded and unable to speak. What the hell? She hadn't even waited for an explanation, not that he had managed to say anything anyway. He didn't want to push it, but it was one hell of a misunderstanding.

"Oh shit, you've fucked up Rogers. You've fucked it up big time," he muttered to himself. Why hadn't he been able to say it was a misunderstanding?

He watched as she walked through the door, helpless to do anything besides try to speak his mind if she chooses to listen to him.

* * *

There were no tears as she braved the cold winter winds. The only thing that was running through her mind was that she should have brought a scarf. It was almost three in the morning and as she unlocked her Audi, she wondered if it was just her imagination running wild. Steve would never cheat on her, would he? He had been nothing but sweet to her ever since they got together, surprising her with flowers and spontaneous dates.

He was always punctual and while he expressed his opinions, he threaded carefully on topics he was unsure of, and she helped him through it. It was a very balanced relationship and she liked that. They worked well together. There was hardly a dull moment with him, but she was starting to question if she meant anything to him at this rate.

The moment she shut the door and locked it, a lesson she had learnt the hard way several years ago, the exhaustion she had been feeling all day took over. What was she going to do?

Break up with Steve?

She was a goddamn lawyer for fuck's sake, she had won more cases than previously thought possible at her age in the State of New York City. She had listened to hundreds of alibis and won cases others only dreamed of even getting hold of. Divorce cases, child custody, what hadn't she heard of before? She was beautiful, she was capable and she was sure as hell there would be guys more than willing to hit her up, so why was Natasha Romanoff sitting alone in her car at three in the morning, fretting if she should break up with her boyfriend who might have been cheating on her?

She didn't want to admit it but she knew perfectly why; she just wasn't sure if she could face it. She hadn't wanted to listen to him, she hadn't even given him a chance to explain because she was simply too afraid of what she might hear. It was Steve. Perfect and wonderful Steve who had meant so much more than she could ever dream to comprehend.

But maybe he hadn't been so perfect after all.

* * *

"Nat? What the hell do you want? It's three in the goddamn morning."

Clint was hardly in a good mood when she called, she knew he was home though because his car was parked outside his townhouse.

"Can I come in?"

His tone softened the moment she spoke, it must've been something in her voice, "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Life is very wrong, everything is so fucked up," she smiled weakly, trying to keep it together as she sat down on his extremely plush couch. It felt like she was sitting on a marshmallow.

She was strong, and she could take care of herself. She could pull it together.

"Oh shit, Nat. It's Rogers, isn't it? What did he do to you? Jesus Christ, I'm going to hang him from the Empire State Building."

"He didn't do anything Clint, or at least I really hope not," she replied softly, her head throbbing.

"Come here," he sighed, pulling her close as he sat down next to her, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head, leaning against the familiar touch. Clint was a wonderful friend, she loved him a lot and he had always been there for her when she needed him to be. God, she felt so stupid. What the hell was she doing?

Natasha felt him pet her hair, "Okay, we won't talk about it."

* * *

He had been trying to call her since yesterday. She never picked up. While he even went to look for her at the office, the receptionist had claimed she wasn't in. He didn't know how true it was, but then again, he didn't see her car in the parking bay. So, her words might have held some truth in them.

"I'm such a bloody fool," he grunted, slamming his hand against the steering wheel of his car and by some stroke of luck, missed the horn completely.

Because he would've pissed Natasha off even more. It was at that moment that he saw the familiar flash of red hair and was almost about to get out of the car when he saw another man coming out of the main doors her.

It was Clint Barton.

Steve had met him once and liked him well enough. But it didn't make him like Clint anymore as he watched him open the car door of his parked Mercedes for her before slamming it shut and getting behind the wheel.

She _must've_ noticed him, or his car at least because she had gazed in his vague direction before turning away again.

God, what was he going to do? She was even avoiding him now. He had tried going to her apartment yesterday, only to find that she was out and he hadn't seen her come home. When she did finally return though, he had been rushing off to work in the wee hours of the morning. He missed her, he missed her so badly he wasn't even sure what to do.

* * *

"You saw him didn't you?" Clint asked as she was pulling on her seatbelt.

"I did," she replied curtly, hoping he took it as a hint to drop the subject.

She had stayed over at his house the previous night, the two of them crashing on his couch like they used to do in college even though Clint had his own bed and more than enough guest rooms in his luxurious townhouse. She had cried for awhile, before realising that she had to stay strong, at least, until she could figure out what to do with the situation.

Natasha Romanoff didn't need to bawl her eyes out to know that much.

"Anything else to add?" Clint asked, eyes trained on the road.

"I miss him, but I don't want to see him."

"I don't think that's how missing someone works, love," he scoffed, smiling.

She sighed, "I wouldn't know what to say."

"For once in her life, Natasha Romanoff is at a loss for words. Thank God, it's not during a court case."

She smacked him and he laughed. It felt a lot like when they were twenty-one again, goofing off in the streets of New York during their law school days.

"I wouldn't know what I would do without you Barton, thanks for being the one who picks up after every one of my messes."

"You're crazy Romanoff, we're practically related at this point, it's my job to take care of you. At least, until Steve can get his shit together."

"I just hope he's the right one."

"I suppose he is, you've been together for quite some time now. Plus, I wouldn't trust you with just anyone. I see potential in him, and whatever this was, I'm pretty sure you just need to give him a chance to explain."

"I don't know, I guess I just freaked out when I saw him with her."

"Sharon?"

"Yeah, and after seeing him with her, I don't know. I lost it."

"Sharon sounds great and all, whoever she is," - She cut him off, "She's one of the other paediatricians in his department. Blonde, nice and all."

"But you and Steve have that spark, you know. Besides, Steve doesn't seem like that kind of man. He's never even had a girlfriend, much less wanted to cheat on anyone, especially when my girl is so kickass. If he did, though, I'd gladly skin him for you."

Natasha smiled, "Can always count on the big brother I never had."

"Definitely."

She loved Steve very much, almost too much, but was it, had it been enough? She had never been the most affectionate person, that much she knew, but she hoped that Steve understood she loved him. The doubts running through her mind were more than enough to drive her crazy, so she pushed it out of her mind as they arrived outside their meeting place.

She had to be professional and there was no way she could be that when all she thought about was Steve.

Hadn't she been good enough for him?

* * *

They arrived back at the office in the later part of the evening and she was just about to head to Barton's room to discuss their latest case when a knock sounded on her door.

"Come in," she replied without looking up.

"Nat..."

She turned immediately at the sound of her name. It brought a sharp and painful pang to her heart, but she tried to keep it together and gave him a tight smile, "Steve."

"Hey..." He stuttered awkwardly, "I've been meaning to talk to you."

God, she hated how vulnerable he sounded. That's not how her soldier was supposed to sound.

If he's still _her's_.

She didn't know if he still was.

"I'm kind of tied down at the moment," she shrugged apologetically.

"Oh, how about you set a time and I'll make it work?"

He was still ever the gentleman, even though they were clearly going through an awkward phase.

Another knock sounded on her door and the both of them turned to look.

"Romanoff, we're leavi-" Clint popped his head around and looked slightly taken aback to see Steve there but managed to keep his cool, "Oh, Mr Rogers, hello."

Steve stiffened up and she sighed, "Coming Barton. Sorry, Steve, we've got a meeting across town. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay."

She picked up her coat and could literally feel his gaze heavy on her as Clint ushered her out the door.

"He's staring daggers at me," Clint whispered.

"Ignore him, I don't know what to do," she sighed.

* * *

The next time she saw him was two days later. He had been waiting for her when she was going through the main entrance of her apartment building.

She spotted him almost immediately, he stuck out like a sore thumb between the well-dressed New Yorkers, sporting a baseball cap and worn out jeans.

"Steve? What are you doing here?" She asked, trying to hide her discomfort. She knew they would have to have the conversation she dreaded so much sooner or later, but she hadn't expected him to show up on her doorstep.

He looked like he was about to say something, but he hesitated."I-I missed you."

"Oh."

She couldn't think of anything else to say. She wanted to say that she missed him too, more than words could say really, but she kept quiet.

"Do you want to come up for some coffee?" She asked, threading the waters.

"Uh, yeah sure."

It was awkward, to say the least as they rode the elevator to her floor. It wasn't as if she lived right at the very top but it sure felt that way. After what seemed like forever, they reached her floor. She unlocked the door to her apartment and gestured for him to go in.

After she pulled off her coat, it was set onto the arm of the sofa. He sat down and she headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on. When the coffee was done, she placed the steaming cup on the coffee table. Sitting directly across from him, she waited for him to speak.

"Let's break up," he said quietly, not quite looking at her.

_Break up?_

"Is that why you're here?" She asked, trying to keep her emotions in check.

He still wouldn't meet her gaze as he spoke, "Not quite, I don't even know how it turned out like this. One minute I was thinking about heading to the store and the next I see your car pulling up and it ended up with waiting for you downstairs."

"Oh... Um..."

He kept silent and she felt like her world was crumbling. He had finally said it, he was breaking up with her, for  _Sharon._ Perhaps it was inevitable but she refused to see it that way. He had made the conscious decision, why should she have to bear the brunt of it?

"Nat? Look, I'm just really"-he paused, looking for the right word -"messed up right now."

"You're breaking up with me because you're feeling messed up at the moment?"

"No, Nat. That's not what I meant. It's complicated."

"Because of Sharon?"

"Nothing happened between us I swear to God, she just tripped and I caught her."

"And you couldn't have told me outright?"

"I tried, but you wouldn't listen."

She looked at him in disbelief, "And you came all the way here to tell me that?"

"You're missing the point, I didn't come here to cause more misunderstandings okay?"

"You don't get to say that! You don't get to say that when I'm the one who has to stay strong. You're not the one, Steve. It's not fair. I'm being selfish but it's just not fair. You have Sharon and I don't have anyone else! You were everything to me! You _are_ everything!"

"Sharon doesn't mean anything, Nat! Nothing happened!"

"Don't call me that!" She yelled, getting up, eyes filled with tears. "You're breaking up with me," she replied, her voice cracking, "So just leave Steve, I don't want anything to do with you anymore, just get out."

"Nat! I love you... But you're refusing to talk to me, and everything I'm doing seems to be hurting you even more! What do you want me to do? I'm lost babe, tell me what to do."

His desperate plea hurt. It hurt like someone had just punched her in the gut. It hurt to breathe.

"Get out Steve, I never want to see you again," she whispered, her throat closing up and her hands shaking.

"Nat... Please, talk to me. I swear to God that nothing happened between Sharon and I. Please believe that."

He was begging her to listen to him, to believe in him, but she didn't know what to do.

"I don't know what to do Steve," she replied, shaking.

He grabbed her and kissed her, feeling the tears run down her face. She tasted the salty liquid, but he didn't stop. His hands tightened around her waist, locking her in his arms.

He asked, "Does this feel wrong to you?"

She wanted to say yes, she wanted to tell him that this was very wrong and that he didn't love her anymore but none of the words she wanted to say came out.

"I love you Natasha Romanoff, and you're absolutely crazy if you for one second think that I'm not hopelessly in love with you. You have no idea how you have changed my life, and I'm so sorry I hurt you, I swear to God that nothing happened."

He kissed her on the forehead, "You're the only one I'm crazy about, the only one who makes me feel like getting up in the morning."

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I doubted you," she gasped between tears, "I'm s-so stupid."

He hugged her tighter, "It's not your fault, I should've tried harder to get you to listen."

She kept quiet for awhile, trying to compose her thoughts.

"I love you, Steve," she said quietly, "I don't want to break up with you..."

"I'm sorry I said that I didn't mean it. I was just so scared of losing you, of hurting you, I thought it was the only way out. If I let you go, maybe you could be happy. At least, that's what I thought. Then, I realised that I love you Natasha Romanoff and I just can't let go of that. I promise nobody can make you as happy as I can and I don't want to spend another second without you."

She buried her face into his warm chest, trying to relish the moment.

"So, will you marry me? I don't have the ring with me, but I just thought I'd ask," he chuckled softly.

She had heard him right. He had asked her to marry him. Natasha reached out to cup his face, pulling him down for a kiss.

It was a slow and passionate one, filled with nothing but love. She felt his hands on her hips and she pulled away, smiling, "You're crazy if you think I'd say no."

 

* * *

**FIVE YEARS LATER**

"Morning, sweetie," Natasha smiled, placing a kiss on James's head. The toddler was able to walk now, and it was the most adorable thing. He had a little kangaroo hoodie on, complete with the floppy ears and everything.

"Hi, mama," he gurgled, waddling away back into the living room. Steve entered in his place, a smile on his face.

They had been married for over five years now, and for five years, she'd never loved him any less. Somedays she would wake up and wonder how she used to do the same morning routine for years without having someone to wake up next to and her heart would just swell with love for both her boys.

Steve took wonderful care of James, and in return, James was the best little boy for his dad. He hardly cried and was hardly fussy, but he could be stubborn when he wanted to. It seemed to have something to do with both her and Steve, and it would make her laugh every time she tried to feed him his veggies.

James was the love of her life and he was the most handsome little baby, although she was clearly biased. He had Steve's blonde hair but her green eyes and held a particularly strong dislike for Brussel sprouts like his father. It would seem that James took on the phrase _like father like son_ , very literally. 

Even so, it had been a blissful five years, despite the fights that sometimes broke out after stupid things. Things like undone laundry and piles of work being left around being prime examples.

Steve had been promoted to the head of the paediatrics department, and she had become one of the partners at Clint's firm. Together, they had taken New York by storm, repping even the most famous of politicians and celebrities. They brought in a lot of money and channelled 30% of their profits to shelters for women and children. It was a worthy cause and things were finally falling into place all over again.

"Smells good," Steve smiles, resting his chin on top of her head. She was in the kitchen; frying strips of bacon for breakfast.

"I know you're referring to the coffee."

"When does bacon not smell good? But yes, the coffee smells great."

She gave him a knowing smile which he returned. Life was good, and coffee was still their thing. Because they definitely had some good memories with that.


End file.
